Chapter Text
Dazai stares at him, his eyes are bright for once and the usual chill is gone from the air. It was summer and Chuuya never wanted to kill Dazai more. That asshole had devised a plan that got some of his men killed and Chuuya was so close to running a knife across his throat.
The only thing stopping him was the dim desire to watch the bastard suffer through life a little but longer. It was cruel but it was also them. They were built through hellfire. Molded through years of training and decades of wanting. He could do no better alone than with Dazai by his side and maybe that was the most frustrating thing of all: he needed that absolutely horrible man so that he could be as strong as he was.
Without Dazai he wouldn’t have half as much as he did. He wasn’t grateful, he simply acknowledged what he was given and what was taken with a bone deep type of fury. He wished Dazai wasn’t in his life. He wished that idiot wasn’t so cruel. And if he was any more like a human then he would have come up with a less shitty plan and saved more of his men.
The mafia couldn’t take many more losses, especially at such a critical time in the war. That idiot’s superiority complex would have to wait till after they completed their required missions. But Dazai didn’t work like that, he just took and he took until he drained people dry. Chuuya hated so many things about him but that was one of the things he hated the most. Dazai was a selfish bastard but he knew how to use people and it was terrifying to witness.
He is constantly on edge when he’s around Dazai, he can’t focus when the other is watching his back because he’s scared Dazai will put a knife through him someday. It was a stupid thought, he could easily overpower that asshole and he knew Dazai would never hurt him. It went against something deep in their DNA to hurt each other. Maybe that’s why Chuuya’s fist still stung after three weeks of putting off what happened between them.
“I’m human too you know,”
“No one would believe that shit,”
The night he came home after the incident he wanted to scream. He was angry, so so angry. How dare Dazai say those things about them? How dare he try to walk the same path when he didn’t even know the steps? But there was also something in him that screamed to be heard. Something he had tried so hard to ignore for so long.
It whispered traitorous thoughts into his head, it wanted him to forgive Dazai, it chastised Chuuya for punching him and saying he was subhuman. It twisted something heavy in his gut and it’s been sitting like a stone in his stomach for almost a month now. He waited patiently for the day his body didn’t register Dazai as a person the same way his mind did.
Maybe then Chuuya would stop feeling so damn uncomfortable around him. His face would contort into a smile for some unknown reason whenever they had a moment of silence. He secretly knew why, he would be a fool not to. But he would also be a fool to do anything about it.
So he would sit still and wait for the day he no longer had a crush on Dazai and he would hate every second of it. He would write in his journals how much he hated his stupidly soft hair, his awfully perfect freckles. It was so frustrating and yet he refused to ever admit he liked someone who treated others so callously.
He wished Dazai was kinder, he wished Dazai was less of himself even though he was already a walking shell of a person. He was so hollow it was impossible to see the end of his emptiness.
Waiting for Dazai to change, to be better at his worst, was one of the worst experiences of his life. He hated that idiot for making Chuuya like him, he hated how easy it was to admit that in his head when in his life he could never even dare to write it out.
Even his writings were a lie, his cherished books told nothing but stories, stories he would never live, characters that would never be him. It was suffocating at first, how beautiful Dazai was. But the moment he opened his mouth all the beauty seemed to drain from him and he was left with a breathing corpse.
Was Dazai still the same person he met a year ago? That question echoed through his mind as he glared daggers at the only person who would still dare smile at him after all he did. Whatever cruel deity placed them together didn’t compensate for Dazai’s stubbornness or Chuuya’s anger.
“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met,” Chuuya whispered through clenched teeth.
They had promised to never say goodbye to each other, it was far too formal for people so tied up in each other’s galaxy. It was a promise neither of them could keep, Dazai loved death more than he could ever love someone, and regardless of how Chuuya felt he could never stick by Dazai. It was their curse, to love the very thing they hate more than anything else.
And maybe Dazai didn’t hate him, something in the way he talked to Chuuya was too kind to ever be used as an insult or even an effigy of one. But Dazai and kind never seemed to stay and Chuuya was left with the hurt of knowing who the other truly was, something deep inside of Dazai was so angry and raw that it almost hurt to be around him when he let it show. The cold gaze of his eyes was petrifying and Chuuya just couldn’t admit that he wished Dazai was less than what he was.
“You always were the one to speak your mind,” Dazai laughed out, his eyes showing a deep level of hurt that rivaled Chuuya’s blind fury.
He wished that Dazai was angry at what he had said, he wanted him to be human even if it was only for a moment, he wanted Dazai to yell and scream and cry. He wanted Dazai to do anything but stand there with hurt etched on his face.
“You’re such an asshole, can’t even succeed at the only thing you try, go jump off a building for all I care,” He shouldn’t have said it but the bitter taste of vengeance was sweet if only for a few seconds.
He knew he would regret saying it, he knew he could lose everything everything he’s ever wanted over a petty argument that was barely two minutes long.
Dazai was his weakness and he hated it. He was the false god Chuuya was forced to worship through the hands of fate. He hated it with every fiber of his being. Every minuscule part of him wanted Dazai dead, life would be so much easier without him, it would fly by and Chuuya wouldn’t have to be so scared, he wouldn’t have to be so angry.
He wanted Dazai gone, even if it was only a second of longing he wanted it. He was a monster for it and he knew it but Dazai was an even worse demon. It was wrong but he didn’t know anything else.
So when Dazai left he didn’t chase after him. And when Dazai didn’t show up to work the next day he barely paid him any mind. It was strange, he always thought of himself as good despite his line of work but ignoring Dazai like this was starting to get to him. There was sulfur polluting his lungs and smoke clinging to his skin with every passing day that Dazai didn’t show. Being without him for so long was starting to wear down Chuuya’s resolve.
He hated being with him but he hated being without him. He just wanted to scream until his voice gave out and cry until his tears ran dry. The days were miserable without Dazai there to fill them with stupid jokes and random rants. Even the other’s silence was missed, the only thing Chuuya didn’t want back was the hurt that came with having to know Dazai.
But as they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder and Chuuya couldn’t help but call Dazai on the third day of his disappearance. It only took a few seconds to be answered with silence on the other end.
“Where the hell have you been Dazai?” chuuya’s voice shook with barely contained worry and anger.
Every emotion seemed to seep together until they were nearly unrecognizable. He was a mess. It was miserable and unnerving. He just wanted to go back to being who he was before he met Dazai. Back to the person he was before his life was flipped upside down and ruined in the best and worst ways possible.
He wouldn’t have been the person he was without Dazai, he wouldn’t know his past or his future. He would be stagnant and be betrayed anyway. Fear would be deeply rooted in his life but at least it wouldn’t be this gut wrenching. He was so close to just hanging up the phone and going to that idiot's ‘house’ breaking down the door and dragging his sorry ass to work. He would have if it wasn’t for Dazai’s shaky breathing on the other end.
“I think I’m going to kill myself.” He said it with such wasted conviction and never ending self-hatred that it made Chuuya flinch just hearing it.
Was he allowed to cry over what he seemed to have caused? Dazai was a paradox, a never ending labyrinth of false emotion and secret winnings. He never wanted to kill Dazai, maybe he wanted him dead but he didn’t want to be the reason why. Maybe he never wanted him dead, to begin with. That would be the only reason for his breathing to speed up at those reckless words.
What a brilliant way to die, Chuuya could never get to him in time, Dazai knew Chuuya would never be able to forgive himself if he didn’t. But Chuuya would never let that happen, he could never let it happen. It went against everything he’s ever known to let Dazai go even if he wanted nothing more than to live without him. Because now that he’s had him he can’t imagine a world where they aren’t always together.
He remembered playing “Marry, kiss, or kill” with Tachihara one late drunken night, he had chosen Dazai for all three in his haze and he never wanted to shoot himself more than when Tachihara had shown him the video. He didn’t mean it, he was drunk and foolish, but he also wasn’t dumb. He knew Dazai had seen the video, how could he not with his disgustingly good hearing and stupidly amazing vision?
Dazai didn’t seem to care, not until he was bleeding out in the bathroom that same night. It was a strange thing, something Chuuya hated but also something that he expected and maybe even accepted.
Chuuya couldn’t help but laugh at Dazai’s desperate words. The beeping coming from the phone told him that Dazai was gone. He had hung up and everything was Chuuya’s fault. He didn’t know why he reacted the way he did, with anger and avoidance but he did and now Dazai was probably slitting his wrists in an attempt to escape.
He and Dazai used to share a brain, they used to be able to predict each other’s movements and adapt so easily to each other’s moods. But then Dazai started getting more unpredictable. He started getting reckless and he swayed on his feet. He didn’t sleep anymore, his eyebags increasing in color and size by the day, and Chuuya… he was trying his hardest not to fall apart when he saw that Dazai kept getting thinner and weaker.
He used to have muscle and throw a solid punch but now the only thing getting him through sparing matches was sheer willpower and stubbornness. Chuuya should have noticed more. No, it wasn’t that he didn’t notice, it was that he didn’t care enough to do something about Dazai’s slow descent into madness. Not until he was the one causing it. He truly was a disgusting monster, the only thing driving him to get up and check on Dazai was guilt. Not care or regret, only guilt. He knew that given the chance to change anything, he would do nothing like he always has.
He rushed out of the building and sped down the narrow rodes until he was met with Dazai’s shipping container. He felt guilt climb into his throat and tear out his insides. It was wrong, so wrong, and yet he couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it. He deserved the pain throbbing in his chest and he deserved the burn of his eyes because his inaction might have just killed his best friend.
He ran into the container only to be met with the smell of iron, the stench of blood. Looking at Dazai’s pale face that’s when he remembers, it’s Dazai’s birthday. The day Dazai hated more than anything, the day that caused him so much pain and anger. He had answered Chuuya’s call instead of killing himself without a warning.
Chuuya felt for Dazai’s heart beat, he worked quickly as he laid Dazai on his back and tried to shake him awake. It didn’t work, something in him knew that it wouldn’t have. Something bitter in him was so upset that he even tried instead of putting pressure on Dazai’s wrists. Blood and flesh caked the ground and stained his clothes, he could see Dazai’s bone beneath the muscle and fat. Pressing on those deep wounds as he called for Mori.
Dazai’s heart stutters to a stop and that’s enough to make tears fall freely from Chuuya’s empty eyes. He should have tried harder, should have dug deeper. But none of it matters now. Not when Dazai’s dead beneath him. Not when his partner’s life was cut short by no one but himself.
He didn’t know who to blame, Dazai, or the person staring back at him through the reflection shared by blood. Dazai was a walking corpse, skin stretched so tightly that you could see the bones underneath. His joints popped and he swayed but he never fell. Not around Chuuya at least. Never around Chuuya.
He was never weak when it came to his partner. Something in Chuuya told him that Dazai was scared of needing help, even more scared of wanting such a thing. But he needed it so badly that you could see it in the creases on his face and the void in his eyes. The rot in him screamed to be set free but the human in Dazai yearned for life.
Chuuya knew that Dazai loved him, he knew that Dazai might even want him. He also knew that Dazai was getting stolen from him for possibly the last time by the cruel release of death.
He wondered if dead people could feel hunger, he wondered if dead people could want, or if they were just being forced to float through their past transgressions and successes. Maybe memories were the real escape. The few minutes the brain has left to live must be the most painful experience he’s ever experienced.
Chuuya’s been marked dead more times than he could count and he bounced back stronger than before. But maybe it was something in the stillness written in Dazai’s face, or maybe the blankness in his eyes; there was no mischievous glint, no hatred or love. Nothing. Dazai was simply another corpse that would be marked with black tape or a title written on his pale skin. He was gone and it was Chuuya’s fault.
He should have asked him if he was alright, even if it wasn’t written in their code he should have seen the signs and followed through with his instincts. He should have been there when Dazai was at his lowest and not only ever been there after.
He should have been there when Dazai called him that night, he should never have waited for a call to check up on his idiot partner. He should have never laughed at what he said and took it seriously instead. He should have dissected and memorized every half lie and apathetic truth. He should have seen through Dazai’s thick exterior to see the helpless child beneath.
Instead, he labeled him a monster, a demon. Something worse than the grime on the sidewalk. He was willing to change but it seemed to be too late as he began compressions. He was wrong and stupid but he was also trying.
He should have been there with Dazai but he wasn’t and he would forever have to pay for that mistake, his over estimation and his lack of calculation led him to the moment when his partner's heart stopped. Barely sixteen and already craving death. He should have asked why instead of scoffing and turning away. He should have cared more. He should have thought ahead to the future only one of them could have.
He should have noticed the quiet contentness hidden in Dazai’s voice that day. It was odd but it was wrong. Dazai was never happy, never satisfied, with life or himself so the unnerving smile on his face shouldn’t have seemed so real and maybe it was. Maybe for the first time in Dazai’s life, he didn’t have to lie about something in order to live. Maybe he deserved death, maybe Chuuya deserved to watch Dazai die but as Chuuya felt the first of many of Dazai’s ribs breaking under his harsh compressions he realized he didn’t want to let that happen.
He wasn’t going to let Dazai die and he sure as hell wouldn’t let it happen on the other’s birthday. He had thought about making a cake, what a fool he had been. As if a day so infused with suffering and emptiness could ever be celebrated. But he had tried to pretend anyway.
He had thought about taking Dazai out to the arcade or maybe to dinner like real people do. That was his problem, wasn’t it? He had always thought about doing something for the younger boy but when push came to shove he always let it go. And now staring at Dazai’s porcelain face he wanted to scream apologies into it until he gained some of his color back.
But Dazai would never answer him again. Ge would never be okay again because Dazai was gone. He was really gone. Despite everything in him screaming at him to stop he continued his compressions until Mori appeared behind him and nearly dragged him off of Dazai’s body. He was dead and everything was Chuuya’s fault.
The medical crew began to add tourniquets to Dazai’s arms and shock him back to life with one of their abilities. Chuuya stumbled to the bathroom only to fall and puke into the toilet. It had always been too soon to tell Dazai he loved him but now it was too late. They could never be perfect, they could never be good but maybe existing together would have been enough. If he had quit being nescient then maybe Dazai never would have died. Maybe he would still be around to hate.
Mori looked at him, pity and disgust settling in his eyes. That’s when Chuuya heard gasping coming from behind the paramedics. His heart nearly stopped as they then lifted Dazai’s body onto a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance. Mori stopped him from following but offered him a fake smile instead.
Chuuya stared at Dazai’s limp body. Dazai was alive, he had a chance to make things right, and maybe that would be enough.